


Silver Droplets

by Astridelta



Series: Silver Droplets [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6761587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astridelta/pseuds/Astridelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And she would water the earth with her tears and blood while she walked, as he grew the flowers of war in her wake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Droplets

_Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts._

Edgar Allen Poe

 

\- - -

 

Ketaari was the name she had chosen for herself, long ago. She had read it in a book, she would think one day, then the next she would wonder if she had heard it on the streets. Though the way she had come to her name did not matter to her; just so long as she had one. 

 

She had always considered Qunaran a beautiful city. The aqueducts stretching as far as the eye could see, vanishing into the emerald swathes of the jungles, no doubt carrying the city’s water supply for miles before dropping into the vast purifying caverns. Stone buildings sprawled for leagues in any direction and yet she could almost see them all, from where she stood atop the city’s walls. 

 

To the Qun, Ketaari was nothing more than an _Ashaad_ , only armed with her bow and a few throwing spears at her hip; and yet she had always dreamt of having her own name, eventually creating a small rebellion that only a few knew of. She did not scout into the unknown as her title suggested. The Qunari archer preferred the rigid schedule of patrolling the borders, gazing out on her home capital and wondering if the Southern empires had the same orderly beauty Qunaran possessed. 

 

Ketaari paused in her steps to polish the tip of the arrow she kept notched in her longbow with the edge of her cotton undershirt, eying the sheen of the steel before continuing her patrol. Very rarely were there enough guards to man the walls during the night, not that in mattered. Qunaran had never needed to deal with an assault; the dreadnoughts always sunk invaders before they even had a chance to behold the sight of Par Vollen’s shoreline. She felt a twinge of remorse at the thought, before pushing it aside. _Any outsider is an enemy of the Qun._ It was what had been indoctrinated in her since birth. Convert or destroy, there was no in-between.

 

She continued her rounds for a stretch of time, counting her paces as she walked and musing what she would have for breakfast at the barracks once her shift had ended. At one point another patrolling archer crossed her path, but they did not converse for fear of becoming distracted. Ketaari saw the male Qunari often on her way back to her barracks in the morning. She wondered if he had a name aside from _Ashaad_ as well. 

 

Eventually Ketaari found herself scanning the tree-line, catching flickers of movement from the inhabiting creatures and every so often she cocked her bow up, testing the weight, then aimed at the shadows before lowering her weapon. _The jungle cats are restless tonight,_ she noted.

 

And yet as the night stretched on, the Qunari archer felt a growing sense of dread that she could not explain, taking over her. A tightness in her chest that she could not ignore, shadows becoming hidden daggers and she kept her watch on the jungle as if it held monsters of unfathomable terror. 

 

_My heart, what is happening to my heart_ , she thought in a panic, and her eyes sought for the _Ashaad_ she had passed earlier, her blood pounding in her ears. But instead of the Qunari’s back, her attention caught the sight of another figure, poised in the shadows several paces away from she. Leaner and smaller than a Qunari, and without horns. _No_ bas _has ever been to Qunaran,_ she remembered, her breath catching in her throat. Her great hand reached to her belt for a spear, but she did not even manage to palm the hilt of the wood before a jolt of electricity ran up her arm. 

 

The shadow-bas did not move as Ketaari choked on her own saliva, collapsing to her knees and in that moment she wished she had been chosen as a Tamassran instead; she was good with children, much better at handling young ones than a spear. She remembered when she helped patch a small cut on a child’s knee with a Tamassran who had favored her, who had told her she would make a wonderful mother one day.

 

Her eyes sought her comrade and she silently pleaded with her fellow guard to turn, to see her assailant and rouse the rest of the guardsmen. Yet he did not, rigidly marching away from her. 

 

Ketaari regretted that she never learned his name. 

 

The figure moved then, stepping out of the shadows and the Qunari woman could make out highlights of golden armor through her tears which she could not fight despite knowing that they showed weakness. She gasped for air, staring up at the other as they approached, languidly walking with their arms clasped loosely behind their back. They did not fear her, yet all Ketaari felt was terror when the person knelt before her. 

 

The first thing about her attacker that she noticed was how sad his face ( _yes, “him”_ , she decided; she knew very few women who shaved their heads bald) appeared. The emotion confused her; he had bested her. Shouldn’t he be pleased? The first bas to step foot in Qunaran and he seemed distraught. The lines in his face spoke of an age far older than his eyes suggested, blue-grey irises watching her as her unguarded emotions flickered across her own face. 

 

He tilted his head for a moment, then nodded to the side as if indicating for her to look. She hesitated, her chest growing more painful with every breath, before she turned her head to the dark jungle; only to find brilliant blue lights illuminating the tree-line, shifting like flames and giving the forest an eerie glow. She struggled to move, then, to shout an alarm, to aim her bow at the man’s heart, but she fell to her side, gasping like a fish out of water.

 

_I can’t see._

 

She heard footsteps moving away from her as the sound of her blood grew weaker in her ears.

 

_The Qun will protect me._

 

No-one was coming for her, though she did not want to believe it. 

 

_Tamassran…anyone…?_

 

“Ir abelas.”

 

Once the voices in her head came and her chest felt near bursting, she managed to scream. 

 

The guards who found Ketaari took her to the re-educators, as she babbled about a _Saarabas_ on the walls and blue fire in the jungles surrounding Qunaran. They pumped  _Qamek_ into her, as she choked and spat against the liquid burning through her veins and lights were shone in her eyes.

 

But eventually, she was subdued.

 

And _Ashaad_ wondered what it would be like to have a name, as she began to sweep the barrack floors.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been wanting to write a multi-chapter Solavellan fic for awhile now, and now I'm finally getting around to it. Please excuse the lack of said Solavellan in this prologue, though...! I'm not sure yet if I'm going to use one of my Inquisitors for this story or leave her purposefully ambiguous, so I suppose we'll find out together.


End file.
